


Me and You, Revealed in the Moonlight

by docboredom



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Gen, I honestly cannot give you a reason as to why I wrote this, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Tarot Readings, and I thought it'd be nice to extend that to these boys, and it helps center me and bring comfort, are you guys ready for fall i am i miss fall, except I'm really into tarot right now, lynchian aesthetics everywhere, minor sung/phobos like there and gone in a flash, okay im done, shit's cathartic bruh, this has fall energy, vague lore noises whooshing in the distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docboredom/pseuds/docboredom
Summary: Havve Hogan picks up a new hobby on the fly.Meouch decides to humor it.It's much more serious and meaningful than that.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Me and You, Revealed in the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> oh i wonder where natalie got her title from oh jeeze i wonder it can't possibly be another mount eerie/microphones song can it???
> 
> anyways stan phil elverum and listen to song islands volume 2 and enjoy the fic :whip:

He always had the worst luck no matter what.

There was no point in calling it a realization, not when he had known it for so long. Instead it was more of an undeniable part of his existence. A universal given. A continuous establishment of what he had always known. It’d be funny, no, ironic… was that the right word? If he had been born with black fur like some kind of Earth cat, but no, there was no real reasoning.

He was just ill starred. Which was just a fancy roundabout of saying he was fucked.

Everybody knew it too. It was a running joke for everyone. Ripped loincloth on stage? A laughable given. Breaking strings on his bass on a weekly basis? Duh. He only ever spilled beer on himself when he was wearing his favorite plaid shirt, and the only real reason he won at cards with any of the other guys was because they all  _ sucked _ . That’s why Sung coming up to him one day, all grins, core glowing, the words “have you had Havve read your tarot yet? It’s super cool!” spilling eagerly out of his mouth had his hackles raising and his claws shooting out.

“Oh, please, Meouch!” There was no need for words. Sung saw it. Felt it. A combination of both. “It’s not that serious.”

“You  _ know _ I don’t like that crap.” The Leoian shot back. Supernatural mumbo-jumbo bullshit. It was one thing to  _ be _ unlucky, another thing to make sense of it. Same went for how he had nine lives, or how Sung could feel other people’s feelings or speak to the stars, or how that weirdo Bombus could see the future from time to time; he could accept it for what it was, but that didn’t mean he wanted the logistics for everything. It was all better off as abstracts- purposely undefined. “What’s Hogan doing with a tarot pack anyways?” Meouch pulled a face. “You? Sure. Phobos? Probably. But not that one.”

“How presumptuous of you, Commander.” Sung stuck out his bottom lip. “I didn’t know we had to run our hobbies by you.”

“You know what I fucking mean.” Brat. Meouch went to swipe at Sung but the other man was too fast and simply danced away. Havve’s like me, he wanted to say, but that would further the presumptuous argument, even if there was a point to it. Havve was grounded. Liked tangibility. Was the more realistic (if not fatalistic) part of Sung that strayed away from that kind of stuff.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Sung’s hand found the edge of his headband and pulled. This at least was familiar and easy enough. He just had to roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders like he always did when Sung wouldn’t stop bothering him and then he’d eventually fuck off. It was already working, although Sung looked too enthusiastic given the circumstances, somehow still having fun. “And tell me what you get!”

Meouch scoffed. “You first!”

“No way, you’ll just Frankenstein an answer out of me and Phobos’s. Nice try though!” Gods, he really  _ was _ being a lil fuck. He didn’t need this. Didn’t need some shot in the dark tarot reading either to make sense of himself and what was to come.

He made his own future.

Simple enough.

*

Of course it got into his head then. Mostly because it was Havve. Again, Hogan was the most serious of them, personality and humor so dry it could be considered a fire hazard most days. So why was  _ he _ flipping tarot cards? What was next? Crystal pendants? Smudge sticks and incense? Sung already liked to make Baphomet jokes from time to time… maybe he was rubbing off on the robot somehow...

“Who pissed in your Lucky Charms, Meech?”

“Ew, Phobos, shut up, you shithead.”

Phobos looked all too amused for his own good as he sat there sipping out of Sung’s water bottle, hair held back by a glittery clip off his forehead, his guitar laid out easily across his lap like some kind of rare and exotic pet. Ask, a little voice prompted him, what’s the harm in it? Meouch bit back a growl and tried to compose himself. “Did you…?” He led in, dropping his voice and leaning in close. Gods forbid Sung overhead them. He’d probably never hear the end of it.

“I thought you wanted me to shut up.” He picked his guitar up and ran through an easy warm up scale. What was with everyone in this ship giving him a hard time, huh? Why was it pile on Meouch day? No. Just more bad luck. He must have been making some kind of face because Phobos’s little eyebrows pinched together before he made an apologetic sound. “Sorry, I’m being mean.” The younger alien amended. “Shoot.”

He took a moment fixing Phobos’s clip for him, pushing his golden locks back. “The tarot thing. Did you…?” It wasn’t even not wanting to say it outloud at this point. It was more so that he was  _ unable _ to, the question a viper curled around his chest, it’s fangs angled towards his throat. 

“Oh.” His dark eyes took on an eager shine. “Yeah, I did, it’s really cool! I actually took a picture of what I drew afterwards. Do you wanna see?” He didn’t wait, already shifting around and half juggling his guitar only for Meouch to hold up his paws. No. He did not want to see. He didn’t know what he wanted, really. It should just be casual and fun. A party trick. Nothing of consequence. But there was something nagging at him. Something off. 

The Lepid’s brows slanted more as he took notice of his hesitation, forehead puckering with the effort, made that more obvious by how his hair was held back. Meouch quickly undid the clip when he noticed the growing concern, leaving Phobos flailing in the hairy aftermath. “Asshole!” He spat.

“Have your boyfriend cut your hair already.” Meouch shot over his shoulder, all gruff filler and tumbleweed fluff, managing to exit  _ seconds _ before Phobos could fully push his hair off his face and realize he was gone.

*

Meouch stood in front of Havve’s door. Fixed his sleeves. Sighed. Fixed his headband. Sighed once more. Looked left, looked right, took a step back. Sighed a final time.

The door flicked open suddenly and there he was.

There was always one moment, a single, imperceptible moment where Havve still threw him off. For the longest time Meouch had been sure it was because the robot was less than all of them in some inexplicable, irreversible way. A slip of a shadow. A sigh on the night wind. But now he knew it was because Havve was more. More than the unnatural stillness he held himself with and the heavy sweep of his red gaze. More than the rickety, rusting limbs that he almost never let Sung fix up or touch- Bending and pushing everything outward and back into the world. 

An inverted singularity. 

A black hole in reverse.

His mouth went dry as their gazes caught. It was like they were teenagers again, as if five years hadn’t passed, the promise-threat of fucking up no matter rising along the horizon of his conscious. They had hated each other, once. Both broken in ways they couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Havve tilted his head in that all-too-familiar way and Meouch tried to let it comfort him and wash the other memories away. They were well past that, grown in every sense of the word, and lingering on it would just bring forward more unwanted thoughts and memories. He could already feel the scars on his wrists itching though. Hear the sound of Havve working the screw at his jaw. Say something. Stop thinking about it.  _ Talk. _ “I’m sure you heard me.” Meouch managed after a pause.

No notepad either, Meouch noted. Just the clicking of his neck as he cocked it to the point of breaking, hip popping out casually, optics dimming after way too long. Yes, all of that probably meant in a low and casual drawl, it was impossible not to, Meouch. You bring shame to your kind. You’re not a real Felidae predator-

Havve was staring.

He was stalling.

Ugh.

“I uh, ah, I just wanted to uh…” Where did he start? How? This was going to end up being blackmail to use against him in the near future, wasn’t it? “Y-you know, I’ve never… I’ve never uh... seen your room!” He all but yelled the last three words without any kind of warning, the sound of it bouncing down the hallways, and all the way back. Room-oom-oom, the frantic Meouch clamored again and again, Sung and Phobos most  _ definitely _ hearing it.

Havve blinked, optics flicking off and on before his shoulders jerked with a silent, violent laugh. He hadn’t! He wasn’t lying! Havve existed in the hallways of the ship and at Sung’s side and behind his drum kit. Not with a bed behind a closed door. The robot shifted his weight, jutted his chin, managed to look down at him. How many years, that look probably meant, have we had this ship? “I know, I know.” He hoped he was reading Havve correctly. “I’m a shitty friend.”

The other swung his head, though there was still a coy, awful look in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t thinking anything at all and just stringing Meouch along. That wouldn’t be that unexpected. The Leoian sighed and forced himself to be casual, shoving his paw against one of Havve’s shoulder pads, giving a languorous flick of his tail. “So... can I see it?”

A hand slipped between them, palm up, fingers curling greedily. “I’m not paying-” Meouch snarled out.

Havve swung his head again and touched his fingers against Meouch’s arm, his wrists, his  _ scars _ . Eighteen again, he had no choice but to think, unknown to each other and tumultuous. The darkness in the doorway yawned and Meouch stared into it. What did he know, really? Was he actually a bad friend?

He thought of Sung and Bombus, still on the mend after all these years.

He thought about a lot of things.

He tucked his hand into Havve’s and went in.

The universe was filled with many strange things, the four of them prime examples of that, hell, the gods damn ship; but  _ this _ was so, so different. A thing of strange beauty and nightmares. Birch trees as far as the eye could see, achingly tall, stripped raw and bare. Dry grass underfoot. Harvest on the air. And the moon…

Oh, the  _ moon _ .

So close you could dip your hands into it. 

So dark you could drown.

Hadn’t he seen this once? Bleeding out of the pages of Havve’s notebook? Black on white on black over and over again? “Is it always like this?” Meouch finally found his voice, breath shuddering out of him. Havve shook his head a third time, what little sliver of silver there was left above them slipping off his sharpest edges and falling into the softer, darker parts. The trees bent and sighed with it, and beyond them scenes flashed by. Desert highways overrun with lavender sand, fiery riverbeds, golden arches, dark caverns, blood and ice. It looked the way Sung’s music felt when they weren’t all together. When he was under the stars. Ethereal and dreamlike.

“This is what it’s like inside your head…”

Flashes of their lives and possibilities. Places they had gone to. Thought of going. Promised they’d end up at. Despite everything, he gave a rueful laugh. “I always wondered where all of Eternal’s energy output was getting focused, but Sung told me not to stop worryin’ about it.” The beaches of Ladyworld were beckoning him in the distance, sunlight winking off the surf like a hundred thousand prisms, warm and familiar and magnificent. “Gods, Havve, I didn’t think-”

...Grounded, he had been so certain, liked tangibility, realistic, fatalistic…

The two of them oh- _ so _ -similar.

His eyes flashed in an amused fashion. Typical, they said, and Meouch didn’t even bother trying to correct him, guilt choking his throat.

Now what? He stood there and watched the breath puff out of his nostrils. “Sung told me you got a tarot set or pack or  _ whatever _ .” He finally mumbled. “You do your readings on the ground, bud?”

Thankfully his voice only shook a bit, but Havve hadn’t even seemed to notice it, he reached into one of his belt touches and drew out a small box instead. Palm sized. Inconspicuous. Like fucking playing cards. Bastard knew. Either Sung had told him or it was just that obvious. Still. Meouch didn’t make any moves to take a seat. He just stayed standing there.

It was hard, in moments like these, without Sung present. Without the hustle and bustle of learned stage movements and the places they held. Without some convoluted plot or situation to push them along. Moments like these reminded him that his sign language was pretty rusty. That he didn’t share the same secret language that Phobos and Havve did. That he didn’t have an inexplicable link to bring Havve’s words to him. 

It boiled down to having pen and paper, how he angled his body, the slide of his eyes meeting his.  _ That’s _ what Meouch had to work with. Nothing more.

Havve’s optics shuttered, as if he too was thinking the same thing, before he sat himself down on the grass and began to spread out the cards.

Unlucky. Terrible friend. Fuck. He took a seat across from the other and did his best to ignore those thoughts. Every card had an ouroboros on the back of it twisted up in an endless infinity, pretty in the way an oil slick was, seeming to emanate their own light. Distantly, it became very apparent to Meouch that Havve had gone and drawn these up, that these were a part of him. He flipped one up and Meouch had no choice but to look. A raised sword held in small, unlined hands stared back at him, wings flaring above the hilt. “Page... of... Swords...” He read off slowly, the low lighting making it difficult even with his feline vision. He curled his lip back and glared Havve’s way, giving the ground a solid ‘whap!’ with his tail. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Havve brought it up to his chest and pointed to himself with his free hand. Oh. He was the Page of Swords? Guess that made sense. What with the penchant for stabby things and sharp objects. “So what am  _ I _ ?” Not only did he not know how any of this worked, he also didn’t know how Havve was going to read it off to him. Surreptitiously, he peered into the trees again, certain Sung would saunter out at any given moment. “Something to do with a lion, I’m sure.” Meouch added in a casual offhand.

Havve did that little shoulder jerk action again as his optics ran bright and warm. He gathered the cards up in reply and slid them across the grass, miming the action of shuffling with his hands. “Me?” Meouch spluttered, unbelieving as he realized what Havve wanted, incredulous. “But…” But  _ nothing _ , it seemed, as Havve’s hands folded over his and they began. They felt slick and new and  _ alive _ as they shuffled them together, and Meouch didn’t know how to feel about that.. 

‘Now we start by asking the following questions-”

“WHAT THE HELL!?” 

It shouldn’t be possible, but somehow, he could  _ hear _ Havve.

The robot pinned him with a look, seeming only slightly bothered by the outburst. ‘Eternal isn’t just limited to supplying visual effects.’ He reminded Meouch dryly.

Oh.  _ Oh _ . He flushed hot under his fur before huffing. “Yeah, I know, but I’ve never…” Never actually  _ heard _ you, he meant. Havve had a low voice, the kind that hooked itself on the edges of a dark smile and followed you everywhere you went. Meouch felt like he had heard it before, so much like his own echo before, but then again, that wasn’t really possible. 

It suits you, is what he ought to have said. 

“...So this is what Sung hears.” He decided to end the tangent with instead. 

Havve let out a quiet laugh as his annoyance gave way. ‘Just about. Plus he feels everything that I feel and vice-versa. Added bonus.’ Meouch already knew that but it was surreal hearing it come from the robot. ‘...You good?’

“Yeah…” Phobos used his room as a place to honor his vow of silence and Havve used his to speak out loud. They all managed to parallel each other somehow. Again, he thought of his scars, the screw in Havve’s unmoving jaw. No. They were past that now. Far, far gone. He was getting off topic. He couldn’t spiral out. “Just startled me.” It wasn’t a lie. Not fully, just like before. He had just forgotten what it was like to feel this anxious. To walk on eggshells and tuck his tail in.

‘Understandably.’ He sounded amused, the bastard, but that amusement came as the perfect salve. ‘If that’s the case, if you’re ready, I mean, I’m asking you to focus. You shuffle the cards. You introduce yourself to them, they introduce themselves back, trust is built.’

“Bullshit.” He snorted at the explanation, unable to help it. How ridiculous. That was the wrong call though. Havve jutted his chin sharply in response, the 808 installed in his chest getting louder and louder as it thrummed in a violent fashion, eyes flaring, eyes peering out from the branches of the trees as they started to lean in. “Gods, Hogan, I didn’t mean it!” He held up his hands, trying to ignore his mounting fear. He wouldn’t, Meouch told himself. He was past that. He wasn’t like  _ that _ anymore. 

Havve settled back, sighed, let his optics go dark. ‘Could have fooled me.’ He said just a little bitterly after a bit.

Meouch ran a hand over his muzzle. “Listen. I told Sung, hell, you  _ know  _ I’m not really… good with this kind of stuff.” He touched Havve’s card absently. “It freaks me out.” Telling the truth should have brought some kind of relief, but he just felt ashamed of himself.

Havve’s hands stilled over the cards, his gaze curious. ‘...Why are you doing this, then?’ 

The Leoian chuckled ruefully. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself.” There was more and they both knew it, but Havve didn’t ask. He waited instead. He was always so damn good at that. “I don’t know!” Meouch finally announced. “Because Sung and Phobos did it, because I started to get curious, because I’m a friggin’ masochist.”

Havve snorted at that last part and Meouch tried to hide his grin only to fail miserably. “What, too personal?”

‘I give tarot readings, Commander, not therapy sessions.’

He  _ really _ laughed at that.

Shuffle, Meouch told himself, gently scooping the cards back up again, paws sliding under Havve’s hands. Introduce yourself to the cards. Try something different. Be nice. Humor Havve. “Is this an A-S-L kind of thing?” He asked softly over the susurrus of the birch trees. “Or am I just giving them my name?”

‘That’s your call.’ Havve drew his knees up and simply  _ watched _ . ‘Just be genuine.’

He didn’t speak it outloud. That was too nerve wracking. Instead he just closed his eyes and gave a gentle, releasing kind sigh. Okay. My name is Meouch and I am my mother’s son, he told the cards, feeling only a little self conscious. Her name is Ariel, and she gave me her love of music and her eyes, one made of sand and one made of sky. He opened them then and looked at Havve nervously, wondering if he should feel something besides the slick of sweat on his paws. “...What now?” He rasped.

Havve’s words were soft and cool though, unspooling through the trees like silk and velvet. ‘Draw six cards, and as you do, ask them to reveal the truth. It shows you your current reality, your strengths, your limitations, and what you need to be taught. Then how to best honor that teaching and, finally, your true self.’

“Oh, goody.” He tried to play it off with a roguish smile but instead he could only nervously frown. His true self? Yeah, right. They were just  _ cards _ . No more than scrawled ink and cardstock in a dark and haunted room. They couldn’t know anything about anyone at all, especially him, he reassured himself, fraught with violence and tangled history. Despite all that, his paws fumbled, grip sloppy with the sweat, cards spilling like an avalanche. “Son of a bitch-!” He swore.

‘That’s fine, it happens.’ Havve assured him, making no moves to help. He did touch Meouch’s wrist when he went to scoop them up though, tilting his forward, issuing a soft humming sound. ‘Do you see that?’

“See what?”

‘That’s your first card.’

He gave a rough and barking laugh of incredulity. There  _ was _ one card face up in the messy pile he had made, strangely symmetrical as it gazed up at him; two hands on either side pouring glimmering liquid into a cup half tilted down, going on for three more cups until the final two poured into a central chalice below. Meouch eyed it warily. Then scoffed. “No, it’s not.” He scooped it up and began to shuffle again, albeit a bit more quickly, even though that probably just lead to a second fuck up. “That was a fluke, Hogan.”

Until it wasn’t, he came to realize.

Until he finally stopped shuffling and drew the same exact card.

‘Nine of Cups.’ Havve sounded pleased as they both stared at it. The eyes were back too, peering out from the tree branches quietly, bearing witness to what was about to unfold. ‘It’s a very good card. Most cup cards are.’ Meouch didn’t make any moves to speak, letting Hogan take the lead instead. ‘You find yourself in a place of contentment after a period of struggle and adversity, and now it is time to enjoy yourself and celebrate. See though… the cups never overflow, nor do they have an endless supply. Nothing is forever. Cherish things thoroughly in the moment. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Generic enough. Except not. Meouch didn’t really know what to feel hearing that except for a growing sense of anxiety, so he simply flipped the next two cards one after another, inclining his head towards Havve in a silent request for him to continue on. A sword with a grand crown wreathed around it’s base greeted him first and then another sword card followed suit, this one featuring four; three blades pointing down, the fourth sheathed and cradled lovingly. 

Havve nodded. ‘The Ruler of Swords is symbolic of someone who thinks clearly, who speaks with a great power, and who has courage in their heart. Some may call their high mental strength and intuitiveness luck, but they know it’s anything but.’ His heart stuttered at that. ‘You know what you’re doing and that’s what it’s about. Never doubt that and trust yourself.’

His right hand moved over the Four of Swords before circling lazily. ‘This is about your limitations. Don’t think of them as weaknesses.’ Their eyes met and held. What had he drawn when he had asked this question himself, Meouch had to wonder? What had the cards seen in him? ‘Swords bring into question the fine line between intellect and power, how our heart falls into the spaces between.’

“What did yours mean?” Meouch croaked.

Havve let out an amused huff. ‘Mine? Oh. Sometimes I pull the Page, sometimes I pull the Moon. The Page represents new ideas and curiosity, the Moon represents the subconscious, mystery, things not seeming like what they should be. But you’re getting ahead of yourself. We’re still on limitations, Meouch.’

“Right, right.” He was relaxing though, leaning into Havve’s misty cadence, his eyes drifting up soundlessly to the incredible moon. That was Havve alright. Cool, quiet. Light on dark. Black on white.

A secret that was impossible to reveal.

Havve began again. ‘The four of swords asks those who pull it to be kind to themselves before moving forward. It serves as a reminder that you deserve rest after the battles that you have fought. Acknowledging what you’ve accomplished is expected, as it has shaped you, but you are more than those incidents.’ His voice pitched low, eyes straying to the ground. ‘When you are in stillness, Meouch, what do you find yourself reaching for?’

Jaw clicking, Meouch also averted his eyes. It’d be so easy to just storm off and tell Havve he was full of himself, telling him what he wanted to hear, but it was  _ more _ than that. “So what, haven’t I been doing that? Are they saying I have a problem letting things go?”

Havve sighed and drummed his fingers along the ground. ‘It isn’t about letting things go, it’s about truly facing them and seeing how they’ve given you cause, and how you may struggle with that despite your best efforts. Compartmentalize them and face them one by one. Accept them. Take them with you as you move forward, not  _ on _ .’ He was trying to sound encouraging but something was eating away at Meouch now. Guilt, anger, frustration, confusion, anxiety. He still had three more cards to do exactly that. Compartmentalize his life into easy and convenient terms, not truly knowing everything that had gone into it. 

Six cards couldn’t explain the way he had felt when he had been torn from his mother’s arms at the age of five. Six cards couldn’t explain the brand that was still seared into his thigh, pressed in again and again until it couldn’t heal over. Six cards couldn’t explain the years of abuse he had gone through, how he had taken it out on others, how he had hurt one of his closest friends… only an unknown innocent to him at that point, just trying to survive.

‘...Do you want to stop?’

Meouch scoffed viciously. “I don’t know, what do they think?”

He had almost forgotten what  _ this _ had felt like. Years of traveling through space time meeting so many different humans and aliens. Being in a band. Saving  _ lives _ . He had thought the grief and visceral rage and lashing out of his childhood had calcified, but it was just as raw and aching as it had been since Sung and Havve had first found him five years ago. He had been going, going, going for so long…

And  _ this _ is what was in the slow down.

“...I thought this wasn’t a therapy session.” Meouch said after a beat and it was supposed to be funny, but neither of them laughed. He ought to be cold, given the setting, but his insides were hot with shame and loathing instead. He unsheathed his claws and felt the sudden, awful urge to empty his stomach, but bit it back, sheathed them back up again. Let out a soft groan. “I’m sorry.” He whispered after the silence had spun itself out into infinity. He couldn’t even begin the times he had said that since getting away from Kion, but he needed Havve to truly hear this one, to know he meant it.

‘Don’t.’ Havve simply replied. Don’t is what they had held each other accountable with. Don’t keep doing this. Don’t go down that path. Don’t start. They both knew how weighty that word was. It’s significance. How it had saved both of them more than once. ‘I understand, Meouch. The first time I did it, it was a different pack, just something Sung had bought once and forgotten, but it gutted me.’ He steepled his fingers, bent them back. Looked, if just for a moment, almost human. Like it was just a costume and a mask. ‘We can stop.’ He said again, voice kinder this time around.

Meouch closed his eyes and flipped the next card. “I don’t want to.”

And although his jaw couldn’t move, Meouch swore he could  _ sense _ Havve smile.

Thankfully it wasn’t swords again. Instead, it was cupped hands filled with flowers and a single coin, with mountains on the edge. ‘Page of Pentacles.’ The coin did have a pentacle in it, he noted through the gloaming dark. ‘Remember… this is what the cards have to teach you.’ 

“Oh boy.”

‘Shush, it’s good, just listen.’ Havve tapped his knee. ‘This card ushers in abundances and prosperity. But it requires an internal shifting in order to manifest them in the physical realm.’ Oh… It was all coming together. He was starting to understand. ‘It’s not an easy journey, but the page has always been about the beginning of everything, not the end.’

Meouch flicked his tail around. “So what I’m getting is right now I’ve got it good, because I got a good head on my shoulders, but I can be dragged down by my past, so I gotta… ‘compartmentalize’ it.” He shot Havve a wry grin, which the robot ‘returned’ by giving a roll of his optics and a shake of his head. “And by doing that, I’ll keep living in that good place that I am.”

‘I can’t say ‘exactly’, but it’s definitely leaning towards that.’

“So I should save the shouting for  _ after _ the reading…”

‘Again, I can’t say  _ exactly _ -’ Meouch gently kicked him and Havve didn’t hesitate to kick him back. ‘C’mon, Commander, two cards left. Do them one at a time though.’

“Okay, oh great Oracle.”

‘You’re such a di-’

“Shh…” He flipped the next one. This was about honoring that teaching. Taking it to heart. He grimaced when he saw a single sword raised to the sky, a tattered ribbon tied to the hilt snapping in an invisible wind. “Fuckin’ swords again? You know, Havve, this is pretty triggering given I was  _ killed _ by one.”

It was the robot’s turn to hush him now. ‘The Ace of Swords. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten any of the bad ones.’ 

Meouch raised a winning eyebrow. “Lucky… or do I just know what I’m doing? Eh? See what I did there?!”

‘I can’t tell what’s worse. You hating the cards or you using them for comedic effect. Anyways. The point of this card!’ Havve held it up in his face, so close he had to lean back from it, lest he go cross eyed from the effort. ‘Is that it shows an expansion in mental energy. It cuts through illusions and cloudiness and cuts to the heart.’ Oh yeah, that was spot on, alright. He touched his sternum absently, as if he could feel the scar Phobos has placed there five years ago through his clothes. ‘This card isn’t an invitation. It is a prelude. With clarity comes the need to speak out, to act. You may stumble, you may make mistakes, but do not let it stop you. You need to do this. You need to keep peeling back the layers.’ He heard Havve make a swallowing sound as he put the card down. ‘Trust the universe.’

Meouch covered his face and rocked back. “Gods…” This wasn’t possible. How was it able to tell such a congruent story? How did this all work? “I’m going to need a stiff drink after this.” He muttered between his digits. Liquor and some time alone.

‘I don’t blame you. We’re almost done.’ Finally, his true self. Meouch had to draw in a deep breath and remind himself again not to lash out. He flipped the card and they stared at it. And stared. And stared.

‘...Pull another.’

“No, you said it yourself…”

‘And I’ve pulled other cards. I told you that. Pull another.’

“Havve…” 

All the eyes blinked out. The wind moaned. It was positively prenatural, more so than it had been before. All there was was the card and the  _ pittura infamante _ it portrayed upon it. A faceless being hung upside down upon one of the very birch trees that surrounded them, one leg bent, profile turned east, as if looking towards the coming sunrise… if there was one, Meouch wondered to himself. The Hanged One. “Makes sense.” He could only manage a numb shrug.

Havve balled his fists up at his side, petulant and emotional, the action so Sung like it was physically jarring to behold. It didn’t matter though because  _ this _ is truly what he was. Ill Starred. Forever fated to misfortune and un-luck no matter what. “You mind telling me the full meaning?” He heard himself say.

The world Havve had made for himself seemed to heave, as if it were tilting off it’s access before quickly snapping back, straightening itself out again. ‘The Hanged One represents sacrifice.’ He finally spoke in a halting voice. ‘Surrender. Being stuck in your past life. Needing to let pauses into your life and letting things go.’

In stillness, what do you find yourself reaching for? Havve had said only moments ago, painfully, quietly, with a great weight tied into his tone.

He had been running without realizing it, ceaseless, constant, unyielding; and he didn’t know what to do except keep repeating the same miseries over and over to himself.

Cyclical- it’d keep coming, he realized with a low laugh, no matter how many times he convinced himself he had fixed it, no matter how good he felt.

Meouch let himself rock back and fall onto the grass, staring up at the endless night sky as tears pricked his eyes. “Well I feel fucking great.” He managed in a thick voice before sniffing loudly. “You know Sung said it wasn’t that serious, that little shit head. Just means I get an excuse to kick his ass now.” His voice began to warble as he continued on, claws digging into the dirt below him, chest heaving with the effort. “Do tarot, they said, it’ll be fun, they said-!”

‘Meouch.’

Havve was leaning over him suddenly with a series of sharp clicks and loud clanking, his red eyes boring into him before they were replaced with a single card. He saw his own face, flowers tangled in his mane, mouth grinning, eyes forward. ‘ _ This _ is your card.’ Havve insisted in a terse voice. ‘Strength. A card that represents courage and compassion in the face of adversity, the kind that resides on the inside, not the out.'

A series of tears leaked out of his eyes as he stared at it. “Did you... did you make this for me?” He choked out.

Havve looked away, looking awkward, no,  _ embarrassed _ . ‘I made one major Arcana for all of us. Sung’s the Sun, I’m the Moon, you’re Strength, and Phobs is Temperance. I tried keeping them all neutral when I was drafting the designs, but-' he flicked his gaze away. 'Didn’t work out.” 

“Huh.” Was all the Leoian could say in response. He couldn’t stop looking at it. It didn’t work out, he said, but it felt like there was a deeper meaning to be found. The will of the universe brought forth through the cards. It saw the brightness in him, the possibility beyond the hurt and darkness that hid in his heart. Havve didn’t need to make it… make  _ him _ ... look like that though. Glorious and magnificent. Truly happy without consequence. Meouch’s eyes skipped to the robot’s and he tried to emulate the smile Havve had drawn him with. “...Thank you.” He whispered and Havve’s optics went soft like a nightlight in the dark. 

“You’re welcome.” He murmured as he held his hand out. 

Maybe, Meouch thought as he took it, he was kind of lucky after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! I actually DID this reading for Meouch myself in order to write this! Not in the the literal sense (could you imagine, me and grandma shooting the shit over tarot) but no, I kind of just slapped through my cards by my parent's pool and let them spill out across the chair just like Meouch does and saw the nine of cups, then proceeded to shuffle more seriously instead only to pull that card again... 
> 
> That's fate, baby.
> 
> The thing about tarot is, no matter what your view on it is, you can find significance and meaning through the cards you pull. I do have a firm belief that the universe guides my hands and shows me what I need to hear, and I wanted tell a story about that. My HCs about Meouch lended into that a lot, because I've always written him as no-nonsense and skeeved out by "the supernatural", and in turn I got to explore the more "surreal" elements of my Havve HCs too.
> 
> Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoyed UuU I'm slowly getting back into writing after taking some time for myself. I implore you still continue to donate and educate yourself on important causes going on in the world, especially as we move closer and closer to the election date here in America. Fic should always be a place of escapism, of joy and heart ache, of comfort and excitement, of laughter and tears and love. Take care of yourself, but never hide away.
> 
> On a last note! Havve's tarot designs were of my own making, but were a combined effort of the Rider-Waite tarot designs and the tarot I use myself, the Weaver tarot. If you're looking to start Tarot, while on the "pricier side" the Weaver Tarot is gender-neutral, feminist friendly, and puts a fresh spin on the usual. Also they're fucking GORGEOUS. The symbolism and effort they put into the cards, gold foil illustrations aside, is breath taking, inventive, and well thought out.


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